Candidus
by H.E. Gray
Summary: Trapped in a mirror with Krad, of all people, Daisuke Niwa finds out that sometimes it's hard to tell what's real and what's not. SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. Nor have I read all the manga, thus mistakes are probable.  
**Warnings: **Slash, some bad language and present tense (the horror, the horror!)  
**A/N: **Dedicated to my friend, Adele, as a birthday present. Happy sixteenth - go wild, take up smoking, pay full price for the frickin' cinema (you cheapskate), have sex, whatever, just don't pull a Katie and tell me about it, 'kay? Hope it's a good year for you, anyway. :)

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**Day One: 10 PM.**

The museum is silent; almost eerily so. The lights are off, casting the displays into muted greys, shadows stretching into grotesque figures piling up one on top of each other, writhing around on the floor as if they are almost alive. One statue holds a sword out, marble gleaming in the dim moonlight shining down from the large windows, and its eyes seem to follow him as he walks.

Daisuke shivers. In the quiet, his soft footsteps sound immeasurably loud to his ears, and his heart is pounding slowly, heavily. The glaring red pinprick of the security cameras doesn't bother him that much; he's already removed all the tapes earlier that day. There is just _something_... something wrong. This is too easy, too quiet, too smooth.

He stumbles over a step he doesn't see, putting one hand out to steady himself against the oily, cool wall, the texture obvious even through the pair of thin black gloves he had pulled on earlier. He stops, tilts his head back to stare up at the blank ceiling, his red hair barely distinguishable from any other blend of grey in the museum. He breathes, in and out, slowly, trying to calm himself, and nearly reaches out to the familiar, comforting presence of Dark in the back of his mind, only tugging the strand of consciousness back at the last moment.

No. He can do this without Dark. The police aren't going to be here; this is an unannounced theft, much to Dark's disgust. All he has to do is find some sword that belonged to an ancient emperor and bring it home – no problem. No one is going to be here, everything is going to go fine.

...Oh God, has he just jinxed himself?

_Don't be stupid_ he chides himself, and Dark huffs slightly, apparently considering some snarky comment. Daisuke ignores him, fiddles with his gloves for a few long moments, and then starts walking again, glancing this way and that, paranoia sinking its fangs into him. This will be okay. Nothing is going to go wrong. He will be fine.

He flinches as he rounds into a room, coming face to face with a leering stone statue, its eyes overcast by a heavy brow. _God_, he thinks. _God, that almost looked real._ He leans closer towards it, tempted to prod the rough stone surface, and then decides against it. You never fully knew what alarms museum curators might have rigged, each and every one of them afraid that they might have something the Phantom Thief wanted, desperate to keep their art and history safe.

Exhaling softly, Daisuke steps past the statue, only stopping at a security pad which locks the next, the newest, exhibit up. With a few quick taps, he enters in the override code of the lock down system, a faintly triumphant smile curling over his lips as the code is accepted and the exhibit door opened.

It is an unusual exhibition; one focusing around one of the older emperors of Japan, a man with supposedly mystical powers and a desire for both order and purity. It is no wonder that Daisuke's mother is interested in the sword that is rumoured to be the main attraction of the exhibition – there are legends focusing around it, legends of magic and power and riddles to test your heart. In fact, pretty much every object of the exhibition seems to have some sort of legend focusing around it, and Daisuke is not entirely sure what he believes.

Daisuke looks this way and that, straining to see in the half-darkness, for this exhibit has no windows looking out into the night sky, and no light save that which filters through the door. It is of no matter; Daisuke is used to darkness. His mother has trained him in it, and he can make out enough to know where to head next.

He moves forward – and that freezes, heart suddenly accelerating and adrenalin rushing his veins as he hears the scraping sound of someone else moving. He steps quickly to the side, easily fading into the shadows as if he were one himself. Dark does not offer to take over, but he sits up, suddenly wary of what is going on. Maybe this is not such an easy mission, Daisuke thinks as he stands absolutely still, keeping his breathing shallow. There is no further movement from the mystery person however, no further sounds drifting towards Daisuke, and Dark relaxes before Daisuke does, already dismissing the sound as the figment of a stressed imagination.

Daisuke is not so sure it is his imagination however, and his shoulders are tense as he slips forward.

He moves through an open door way, keeping to the sides of the room as much as he can – and then his eyes widen and he skids to the side, barely missing the blow from a person who is suddenly behind him as he moves again. He turns, and catches sight of white wings and blond hair, easily visible even in the dimness. _Krad!_ he thinks, and Dark stirs inside of him, trying to take over. _What is he doing here? _They gave no warning of where they would be, nor was the sword one of the Hikari's works. Krad should not be here.

Krad snarls as he sees Daisuke beginning to change, backhands him across the room. Daisuke hits the base of something, his back exploding in pain as Krad stalks forward, lifts him up by his collar as if he weighs nothing. With one hand, the blond presses him back against a smooth surface – _a mirror?_ Daisuke has time to think in confusion, the pain keeping him from flickering into Dark's body – and the other pressed down by his head.

Krad is very close, Daisuke thinks as he struggles. His body is nearly flat out against his own, even as Daisuke is dangled half a foot in the air, choking under Krad's grip. Krad looks as though he is going to say something, something gloating, cruel, something illustrating just how _fucking_ psychotic he is, but his face changes and his eyes widen in alarm. Against his back, Daisuke can feel the mirror's surface begin to – ripple? He doubles his struggle, but Krad is no longer paying attention to him, staring down at his hands in shock as an image raises above it, his body seemingly splitting into two, with his soul separating, being dragged into the mirror.

Daisuke knows it is hurting Krad – knows because he can feel it happening to him, and it's definitely hurting _him_. Dark's voice is nearly incomprehensible, and the feelings, Krad's long, elegant fingers choking the life out of him, the bumps that come out in waves across from the mirror, the breath that is ghosting across his face in short, sharp bursts because they are _that close_; the feelings are slipping away into a pure, vacant white.

_Dark slips from Satoshi's grasp, both of their bodies fully transformed as they stumble away from the mirror in shock. "What the hell?" Dark gasps, massaging his neck, where there are livid bruises obvious against the pale skin. "Daisuke!"_

_He moves closer to the mirror, pressing both hands against the now-smooth surface in desperation. "Daisuke!" he shouts again, and Satoshi is wide-eyed and pale-faced, his expression almost echoing the fear that is clear on Dark's face. Dark seems to realise that the mirror will not let him pass into wherever Daisuke and Krad have been forced to, and he steps away reluctantly, turning to stare at Satoshi._

"_Do you know what this mirror does?" he asks, and his words are quick and garbled. "The legends – do you-?"_

"_I don't know," Satoshi says, shaking his head. "I- Krad doesn't tell me anything, when he can help it, and I don't think he was here to protect the mirror. I haven't heard anything about it."_

_Dark's eyes are almost wild from what Satoshi can see of them, and the boy fumbles in his pockets for something, finally pulling out a tiny torch and switching it on. "I assume the security cameras have all been disabled?" he asks Dark, and Dark nods curtly. Satoshi shines the light around the mirror's edge, pausing when he sees an inscription carved on the bottom. Satoshi and Dark exchange looks, but it is Satoshi that kneels down to examine it._

"_And this shall be our window, through which we shall make you pure," Satoshi slowly deciphers, tilting his head to see the inscription more clearly. "What do you think that means?"_

"_I don't know," Dark says uncertainly. "I really don't know."_

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End Chapter_

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Reviews are muchly welcomed. Make a moron happy. You know you want to. :D. Next chapter will be put up on the 20th.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. Nor have I read all the manga, thus mistakes are probable. I probably should read the manga, but I can't be bothered to borrow it. (Yes, I'm lazy. Hush.)  
**Warnings: **Slash, some bad language and present tense (the horror, the horror!)  
**A/N: **(Still) Dedicated to Adele. As a response to reviews (which I appreciated a lot, and spent much time gloating over, thus inflated my already over-inflated ego) - there will be no nice Krad. Ever. Because that just disturbs me. And of course I'm a moron. :D

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Day Two? AM.

He wakes on his stomach, with someone shoving a knee down into his already aching back, pinning his hands together with some ease. Daisuke arches backwards, trying to alter the position somehow, but his captor simply presses down harder, laughing softly as Daisuke lets out a barely stifled groan of pain. The grips loosens slightly – ever so slightly – as Daisuke lies down flat again, submitting to the hold he is in with some reluctance. He moves his head so it is lying sideways, flat against the ground, and squints with bleary red eyes.

Everything is white. He does not mean that in a hospital sort of way, in which the walls are painted in sterile colours, but still have the shadows and the faint splashes of colour here and there, where plants are placed to break up the monotony. He means that in the sort of way, in that there are no shadows, and no colours, and nothing save white, white, _white_, stretching out for what seems eternity, because he cannot tell if there are walls or doors or just eternal emptiness.

He knows there must be a floor. He is lying on it after all. He tries to tilt his head up to see if there is a sky, or lights shining down, because the white is so bright it is nearly blinding – but no shadows mean no lights, and no lights means no white. It does not make sense, and so he feels it is necessary to check whether there is a ceiling. He catches only a glimpse upwards before a hand slams his head back down and he hits his chin so hard he thinks he can feel the pain spark.

From what he can tell, there is no ceiling. No lights shine down, there is no solid barrier to show the upward limit of the room – just white. Daisuke is already beginning to get sick of the colour. He wonders, absentmindedly, if the person holding him down is white. Then he wonders if the person is Krad – because of course, they fell into the mirror together, didn't they? And Krad would be the type to try and keep Daisuke in submission, whatever the circumstances, always desiring some control over something.

Daisuke finds that, for all his detached feelings and analysis of the white (he thinks he hates the colour, he decides suddenly) he is still capable of fear. He half-closes his eyes, and calls out-

_Dark?_

There is no response, and Daisuke cannot even feel the low thrum that signifies that Dark is asleep. Daisuke is alone in his own mind, isolated in a way that he has not been ever since the thief awoke when he was fourteen. It is unnerving, and not as pleasant as he thought it would be.

"He's not there, is he?" a voice says, and with a start Daisuke realises that, _yes_, the person holding him down is Krad, and his voice is almost mocking at Daisuke's distress.

"Satoshi isn't there either," he says, and it is more of a statement than a question, even with the quiver present that he cannot quite conceal. Oh God, if Satoshi isn't there, then Krad cannot be reined in. Daisuke is alone with a fucking homicidal blond.

Daisuke doesn't normally swear, but he feels this is a special occasion.

His arms are yanked up, arching his upper body involuntarily as Krad continues to push down on his lower back with a knee. Just as Daisuke thinks that his spine is cracking and his shoulders are on the edge of dislocating, when the pain is edged with fear and panic and emotions he cannot really identify, Krad moves his knee and pulls Daisuke up to his feet in one easy motion. It is humiliating being manhandled like this, as if he were some weak child, unable to fight back, but Daisuke bears it with nothing but a low hiss of pain. After all, compared to Krad he is a weak child – he needs to bide his time, wait for Krad to relax slightly... And then what? He does not know where he is, nor how to get out of this endless void (he think endless infinity would be more appropriate, but that is redundant, and for all that Daisuke prefers his paintings to words, that does not mean he has no appreciation for proper description.)

He looks around, doing his best to ignore how his arms are still twisted behind his back, and how he thinks he is beginning to lose feeling in them. He half expects everything to be the same white, but to his surprise, he can see small words hovering in what looks like midair, a light grey that nonetheless is such a contrast to the aching blankness that Daisuke nearly gasps. He tries to squint to make the words out, but they are too small, and a faint imprint of something not quite white, but so nearly, so nearly that is it is barely distinguishable, moves past to obscure the writing.

Krad does not seem interested in the imprint, but rather the words. He speaks to Daisuke, and his voice is pleasant.

"Do you know what those words say, Niwa?" he asks, and Daisuke shakes his head. Krad laughs, and his breath brushes across Daisuke's neck, making the boy tense in unease. "They say 'And here you shall be made pure, for order is the way and the truth. Let this be the end of the sinners and the chaos of the unruly world. Here we shall make our new order.' Do you know what that means, Niwa?"

Daisuke is unnerved by the hissed spite in Krad's voice. He thinks that if he is stuck too long with the blond, he will die. He shakes his head again, in answer to Krad's question, and Krad snarls slightly. "Aren't you supposed to be intelligent, Niwa?" he says, and Daisuke cannot help himself.

"Satoshi's the genius, not me," he says, and then snaps his mouth shut, remembering it is not the best idea to annoy the psycho who has you helpless. Krad does not seem happy at Daisuke's cheek, and releases his arms, shoving him away so the boy stumbles to the ground.

Daisuke lets out a sigh of mixed relief and hurt as his shoulders swing forward, finally out of that painful position and spiking with sharp nerves as the blood begins to flow through them again. He pushes himself off the floor (is it the floor? It's really hard to tell, when there's no walls to look at, and no ceiling, and now he looks around, the only colour in the room are the floating words – are they really floating, or are they written on a wall that he just can't see? - and the indistinct blurs, the imprints of _something_ passing by, maybe two or three or four of them, each that much closer to white than the others) and stares into Krad's eerie gold eyes. He swallows slowly. "What does it mean?" he asks, and is proud that his voice only wavers once.

"It means, Niwa," Krad says, stalking closer, his grin forced and almost feral. "It _means_ that we are fucking stuck here. It _means_ that this place is going to destroy us – because we are the _sinners_, because we are _chaos_. It is going to make us _pure_, Niwa – pure like this whole place is pure. How _white _is pure." He pulls Daisuke close, a hint of insanity crossing his face. "We aren't going to die, Niwa," he breaths. "We're going to be eradicated. Made pure, until there's nothing left of us."

He releases Daisuke and turns away with laughter shaking his shoulders. Daisuke is pale, looking around. Maybe- Maybe if he shouts, Dark will hear him. They fell into the mirror, didn't they? He is breathing quickly, nearly hysterical, and Krad is watching him as if he is some fascinating new amusement. One of the imprints flows past him, runs through him with the feel of oil and grease and eerie cleanness that makes Daisuke want to retch.

"What," Daisuke begins, trying to breath slowly and calmly, his face drawn tight, "Was that?" His fists are clenched to the point where he can feel his short, stubby nails driving into his palms, and Daisuke isn't sure if he can take anything else, isn't sure that he won't have a mental break down in front of the one person who will stand there and laugh at him if he starts to cry.

Krad turns his back on Daisuke as he replies, and his voice is ringing with some twisted, hidden delight for all the practiced coldness of it. "That was an imprint," he says. "A soul, if you like. This mirror is a legend. It purifies the soul by removing every part of it that has ever sinned, that could ever want to sin."

Daisuke runs through the ramifications of this, his brain moving sluggishly. "Everyone sins," he whispers uncertainly.

Krad laughs then, high notes ringing through the still air, subsiding only slowly. "And so everyone will fade to nothing when they come in here. They fade away until they are imprint, until they become less than imprints. Until they become nothing."

"Because nothing is purity," Daisuke says in horror, suddenly ignoring the fact that he is stuck here with Krad. "This place is a death sentence."

"Congratulations!" Krad cries loudly. "Give the boy a medal!" He laughs again, wildly, and Daisuke shudders away from the noise. It is not human, he thinks, and then wishes he did not think that.

He looks up, and around. He moves to stand near the floating words, and places his hands against the wall he can feel but cannot see. He takes a deep breath, and then screams loudly, "DARK!"

There is no answer, and he shouts it again and again with Krad's laughter cutting through it, shouting his throat raw until he collapses with his face desperate and says with an exhausted voice, "We have to get out of here."

Krad does not bother listening.

_Dark is knocked out of his uneasy sleep by a tiny voice echoing from the mirror, shouting one word over and over again that he cannot understand. He looks over at Satoshi, who has been examining the mirror without stop for the past six hours, and sees the dark exhaustion ringing around the boy's eyes._

_Satoshi wants Daisuke back as much as Dark does._

"_Do you know what that's saying?" he asks, moving closer to lean an ear against the mirror. The voice is louder like this, and it is with certainty he exclaims, "That's Daisuke!"_

_Satoshi's head jerks towards Dark, blinking away his tiredness to press his own ear against the mirror. "I don't-" he begins, frowning at the unintelligible word Daisuke is shouting, as if from far away. He shakes his head. "I don't understand it," he finishes hopelessly, even as the voice dies away._

"_We need to go," Dark says, feeling like a traitor. "The caretakers will be coming soon."_

"_Can we take the mirror?" Satoshi asks, and then answers himself. "No, it's too heavy. We need to come back tomorrow night. Research this, and get Daisuke out."_

"_I'll be there," Dark promises, and they leave with no further noise._

_Behind them, the mirror seems to glow._

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End Chapter_

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Reviews are muchly welcomed. Further inflate an over-inflated ego. You know you want to. :D. Next chapter will be put up on the 27th.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. Nor have I read all the manga, thus mistakes are probable. What can I say? I'm cheap.  
**Warnings: **Slash, some bad language and present tense (the horror, the horror!)  
**A/N: **(Still) Dedicated to Adele. Thank you to everyone who reviewed; it was very encouraging. :D

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Day Three - ? PM

Daisuke isn't sure how long he has been sleeping. Somewhere amidst the waves of emotion that had been battering him, he had succumbed to a sort of exhaustion, and let his eyes drift close. He isn't sure if he was really even asleep then, though, because his dreams (if they were dreams? how can he know?) were filled with white and Krad, white and white, and wild laughter. He does know, however, that somehow in his sleep (it must have been sleep, because he doesn't remember doing it, and surely, surely he would have if he had been awake) he has curled one hand around Krad's arm, and that disturbs him.

He knows why he has done this of course. Daisuke always sleeps curled up, preferably around something else, which lead to much mockery when Dark found out that Daisuke used With as some kind of teddy bear. When With is not there, Daisuke reaches out for whatever is closest – in this case, it seems to be Krad, who looks to be dozing in a half-aware status. Probably, Daisuke thinks, Krad will only wake up out of this fitful sleep if someone moves to attack him. He considers trying this, but decides it is not a good idea to annoy the homicidal maniac.

So. Somehow in his sleep, he moved to curl a hand around one of Krad's forearms, and Krad either did not wake up, or did not care. Somehow, the thought that Krad might not care about it alarms Daisuke more than anything else. He carefully releases Krad's arm, and backs away slowly, as if the blond were some kind of wild animal. Truth be told, that is probably an appropriate metaphor for Krad; he is too wild, too reckless to be human. In many ways, Daisuke thinks, that is reflected in Dark, although Dark would be appalled to find out that Daisuke was ever comparing the two.

Now that he is away from Krad, and out of easy arm's reach, Daisuke looks around again, wishing he did not as the white reflects back at him. Uneasily, he pushes himself to his feet and goes over to where the words are written. He reaches up, and traces his hands over them, reads them again and again, and tries to interpret things in a different way. He cannot. He wonders if they are going to starve to death, but realises that he is neither hungry, nor thirsty. He cannot understand why that is, as he cannot understand why he was unable to tell the difference between sleeping and waking, until he started moving. Experimentally, he pinches himself, but that still hurts. When he looks at his skin though, the red mark that is formed seems somehow less red than it should be.

Daisuke shivers.

There is a noise behind him, and Daisuke turns to see Krad moving – he finds himself grinning at the fact that Krad is not so graceful when he is half-bleary with sleep, eyes flickering down to his arm as if expecting something there, and then smiling wickedly. Daisuke's grin fades as he understands what Krad was expected, and his hand half-clenches. So, Krad was aware that Daisuke had been holding on. That is unnerving, he thinks. He should try to sleep far away, when he next closes his eyes.

Krad moves to his feet, and regains some of his cat-like grace, turning to stare at Daisuke. Daisuke notes with unease that Krad still wears that wicked smile, and he feels the hairs on the back of his arms standing on end. Krad moves closer, and then turns his head to look away from Daisuke; standing in proximity, but acting as if Daisuke is not there. Daisuke finds this reassuring, but he does not know why.

Krad speaks then, and Daisuke bristles at the knowing tone of voice. "Sleep well, Niwa?" he asks.

Daisuke does not reply, and Krad laughs. They stand there, in silence, listening to each other breath in and out, and Daisuke finds himself fixating on something, a twist in his stomach as he tries to deny his eyes.

"Your hair," Daisuke says, reaching out to touch a strand of the long mass. Krad is watching him very intently, even more so when Daisuke, unthinking, pulls out a lock and runs his hands down it. Krad's hair is soft, Daisuke thinks. As soft as it looks, and even more silky, He stifles the urge to snicker as he wonders what shampoo Krad uses.

After a second, Daisuke picks up his train of thought again, trying not to shiver. "Your hair," he says deliberately. "Is paler."

He nods then, and realises what he is doing – a moment evident in the sudden widening of his eyes, and the hurried backing away, dropping Krad's hair and hiding his hands behind his back as if to say 'it never happened'. Krad is still watching him, smiling unnervingly, his gold eyes swaying backwards and forwards over Daisuke as he shivers.

Daisuke does not want to move, and it seems Krad understands this, for he is the one who moves forward, circling Daisuke until he stands at the boy's back. He leans forward – Daisuke wonders that Krad shows an eerie liking for his neck, but does not say this – and murmurs, "Your skin is whiter, Niwa. Or have you always been this pale?"

Daisuke glances at an arm involuntarily, eyes tracing over it again and again – and, he sees with an unpleasant lurch, Krad is right. His skin is paler, not quite sickly yet, but definitely whiter than it was before. He bites his lip, hard, and Krad seems to find this funny. Daisuke thinks that Krad finds everything funny, and feels a spike of intense dislike for him, unusual in Daisuke, who finds it hard to hate _anybody_.

"Why do you find it funny?" Daisuke asks, turning his face away slightly so Krad cannot see the expression that has overtaken it.

"Find what funny?" Krad says, and Daisuke tenses.

"The situation. Me," he says, and Krad is not slow about replying.

"You care so much," Krad murmurs. "It's _interesting _that you must take everything so seriously."

"Better than not caring," Daisuke retorts, not thinking through what he is saying.

"What makes you think I don't care?" Krad says, and although his face is blank, his eyes dance in amusement.

"I don't think you care about anything," Daisuke says, in quick, bitter frustration, unable to take the levity that Krad holds their situation in.

"Is that the truth, Niwa?" Krad asks, his amusement fading, drawling out Daisuke's name with an odd sort of intensity, their eyes meeting and locking. Daisuke steps backwards as Krad advances – again and again, until it is almost ridiculous, but he cannot help it, cannot drag his eyes away from Krad's. He steps back again, and his foot hits something hard. There is a limit, then, to how far the room extends, for all that he has thought about endless voids and infinity.

Daisuke watches as Krad closes the gap between them, and then tries to roll under the blond's arm. It is a stupid move, and it has a predictable result, Krad catching Daisuke by the shoulders and pinning him to the wall as if he weighs no more than a butterfly. Daisuke is forced to crane his neck up to look at Krad, red eyes meeting gold, prey meeting predator. Krad smirks down at him, and changes his grip to pin both of Daisuke's hands above his head with one hand, leaving the other to grip onto Daisuke's shoulder.

"You look like such an innocent, with those eyes," Krad murmurs softly, leaning in. "Did you know that Satoshi loves you?"

Daisuke stiffens. Satoshi _what_? Krad laughs at the uncomprehending look that takes over Daisuke's face, and Daisuke is forced back to the present as Krad leans in even closer, until their lips are all but brushing as he speaks.

"It doesn't matter now, does it? We're never going to see them again. Nothing we do can ever affect the real world again."

Daisuke looks as defiant as he can in his position. "Were you always this defeatist?" he snaps, forgetting the discomfort of his position, and the way his body is prickling with Krad's closeness. Krad laughs, and that sends strange jolts through Daisuke as he has to remember how to breath again.

"Only," he says, and there is something in his voice, some amusement that make Daisuke swallow, "When it suits _me_."

Daisuke watches in a kind of frozen shock as Krad closes the last few millimetres, chapped lips pressing against his own, and they stay there, unmoving, as Daisuke tries to understand just what is happening. He cannot, and after a few moments, he sighs softly, giving in.

Krad backs off as soon as he feels Daisuke go limp, smiles mockingly at the look of bewilderment that crosses the boy's face and lets him down from the wall. Daisuke rubs at his aching wrists, staring at Krad, and feeling humiliation begin to creep over. This is a game to Krad, he can tell. He cannot muster the effort to be truly outraged though, and just sits down, leaning his head back against the wall.

"How long have we been here?" he asks, and Krad shrugs. Daisuke is surprised at how communicative Krad has been recently. Then again, they are going to die.

That rings with a kind of eerie solemnity. _We are going to die._

Daisuke makes a sound that is halfway between a laugh and a sob, and does not know which he intended it as.

"_Any noise?" Satoshi asks as he approaches Dark. Dark has an ear pressed against the mirror, his expression intent._

"_I thought..." Dark begins, and then sighs. "No, none." He makes a face. "Daisuke's mother is frantic."_

"_Does she know of the mirror?" Satoshi says, shifting the rucksack on his shoulder. Dark shakes his head._

"_She's asking around," he says. "It doesn't seem likely though – the mirror's some lesser legend or something."_

_Satoshi does not look happy. "I couldn't find anything specific on the mirror," he says. "I have some books on the Emperor of that time's reign, but..." He trails off, and it is clear from Dark's face that he knows not to hope too much. They exchange glances, and Dark pulls out a strong torch._

"_We might as well get reading," he says, and from his sigh, Satoshi is brought to understand what a sacrifice this is. He can't help but smile briefly as he pulls out a book and hands it over._

_They read in silence, but it is neither as panicked nor as cold as it was yesterday. They are willing to wait now – the sooner Daisuke is out the better, but no sense in hurrying and missing something of import._

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End Chapter_

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Reviews are muchly appreciated. (You know you want to review) Next chapter will be put up on the 3rd. If I've counted right.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. Nor have I read all the manga, thus mistakes are probable. What can I say? I'm cheap.  
**Warnings: **Slash, some bad language and present tense (the horror, the horror!)  
**A/N: **(Still) Dedicated to Adele. Thanks to everyone who reviewed - and especially everyone who's reviewed more than one chapter. :D (Only five more chapter to go!)

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Day Four - ?

He is tired. He does not know whether he has been sleeping or not, but he feels the constant ache behind his eyes, luring him into sleep – and yet he cannot fall into deep slumber. Every time he closes his eyes, it feels like he opens them again a few seconds later, but for all he knows it could be minutes, hours, days. There is no time inside here, and the lack of hunger or thirst makes it difficult to ascertain even rough hours.

Daisuke wonders how long they have been stuck in here. He fancifully places it at a year, or two, and then tells himself this is foolish. Perhaps a month. Perhaps less. Oh God, he thinks, what if they have only been in here seconds? Imagining each second stretching out into eternity (there is a theme here, he is sure; endless, eternal, everlasting white on white on white on timeless infinity) he shivers.

His black clothes are grey now, he notices. He cannot find the emotion in him to panic, and this is a worrying development. Will his personality fade away like the rest of him? Will he become some wraith, only watching, never feeling, never caring, until even that leaves him?

Daisuke has never been afraid of death. Oblivion, on the other hand, terrifies him.

"Brooding?" Krad questions languidly from across the white sea, and there is something unsettling in those gold eyes. Daisuke remembers the feeling of those chapped lips on his own, and the lack of emotion that came with them. He is a romantic at heart, and he believes that every kiss should mean something.

That kiss meant nothing to him, Perhaps it symbolised him giving up, but surely then he should have felt more despair instead of a blank apathy. For a second, he tries to imagine Krad in a normal, teen setting, going out on a date, and then he stifles a hysterical snicker. Krad's version of a date would probably be trying to kill you.

...That explains something about him and Dark actually. Daisuke finds his mouth stretching into a poor imitation of a grin, imagining Dark's reaction to Daisuke trying to explain this theory to him. (_'So, you see, Dark,' he says in a business-like tone, shuffling around some deep psychology papers, 'Krad's desire to kill you is actually rooted in being incapable of expressing his desire in any other fashion. In a way, this is his version of saying, 'I love you.'' Dark faints, and With comes bouncing over to squeak at him in bemusement.)_

He realises that Krad is still waiting for an answer, one eyebrow raised (and God, it's nearly white). "...Perhaps," he answers slowly, and blinks as Krad snorts, adjusting his pose, and it's so strange seeing him lean against something Daisuke cannot see.

"So defeatist?" he asks, throwing Daisuke's previous words back at him, and Daisuke shifts on the floor, standing finally and feeling awkward.

"For now," he says, and there is a silence as Krad's eyes rake over Daisuke's body, weighing him up as if he were cattle to be slaughtered, deer to be hunted.

"You remind me of one of your ancestors," Krad says finally. "A hundred years ago, perhaps?"

Daisuke watches as Krad tilts his head to one side, a mockingly blissful look on his face. The redhead knows better to think that anything good can come from this expression, and he is right when Krad continues in a reminiscent voice. "Oh, did he _scream_ when I killed him. 'Please! Stop! I have a son! Don't!'" Krad laughs, and Daisuke swallows awkwardly, feeling slightly sick.

"I couldn't kill Dark that time," Krad continues, in a more conversational tone. "I think it was worth it though, even if the Niwa line did continue through his fourteen-year-old brat. It gave me fond memories, for when I was... asleep." His expression is anything but casual as he looks at Daisuke. "Would you scream like that if I killed you?"

Daisuke thinks this over, watches the blond as he moves closer to him. "I don't have a son," he says. "So I don't think so."

"Pity," Krad says. "That would have been a good memory to fade with. I'd try and make sure I hung onto that until the last moment."

"Oh," Daisuke says weakly. "That's... good to know."

Krad laughs again, one hand reaching out to touch Daisuke's face, and Daisuke flinches away. Krad's skin is deathly cold and feels almost oily as it slides away. Daisuke doesn't like that thought, remembering the wraith-ghost-imprint that passed through him. If Krad is nearing that point, then surely Daisuke is too. He is finding his thoughts are wandering more than ever, unable to stay in one place for long, and he sighs softly.

"You'll give in sooner or later," Krad says, and there is a confidence in his voice even as Daisuke tries to understand what he is saying, mind too foggy to work through all the implications.

He stares at Krad, and wishes he has a sketchbook on him. Krad looks like some kind of angel, a misleading impression, with hair so pale it is platinum and skin so white it is ebony, against white clothes edged with faded gold and it is like he fits here. It is his hell, Daisuke decides. Krad's punishment for his sins, but Daisuke is in here with him. Perhaps he has sinned too, but he is not the murderer that Krad is.

Daisuke is a thief, and to many, that is nearly-but-not-quite as bad. What kind of family lives from stealing art that belongs to a country, a heritage that is not their own? He wonders at this, and Krad rests a hand on his arm, gripping it painfully tight in – possession, not anything else. He is telling Daisuke that _they are here_ and _you are mine to play with_ and _I am stronger than you and you cannot stop me._

He looks down at his arm, sees the faint colour of veins against pale skin, and swallows. "I'm almost as pale as you," he says in a stunned voice, and Krad smirks.

"I know," he murmurs. He looks as if he is going to say more, but they both freeze as a muffled sound reaches their ears.

Daisuke cannot tell what it is saying, although he holds his breath, straining his ears, until his lungs feel like they are going to collapse in on themselves. It comes and goes, fading shouts covered by distance and mist and thick cushions piled over the speaker.

"Dark," Krad says with a sneer on his voice as he releases Daisuke's arm, and it is with a start that Daisuke realises that he is right. It is Dark's voice, and suddenly there is hope flooding through him.

"Dark!" he shouts, "Dark, it's Daisuke! I'm here!"

Krad is laughing like a hyena as Daisuke shouts up at the ceiling, out at the walls that he knows are there but cannot see. "DARK!" he shouts, and there is some kind of reply-

"Eksid I nac-" the rest is too quiet to be heard and Daisuke shouts again and again until his throat is hoarse, occasionally hearing snatches of that incomprehensible speech as Krad keeps on laughing as if seeing Daisuke's hope is some kind of hilarious joke.

"_I can hear Daisuke's voice," Dark says, looking over at Satoshi. "I don't know what he saying though. It sounds like he's shouting 'Krad'." There is a kind of wounded tone in his voice as he says this, wondering why Daisuke is shouting for him, rather than Dark, wondering why he cannot understand the rest of what Daisuke is saying. Daisuke's mother asked him to protect her son, and he feels as though he is failing her._

_Satoshi has his ear pressed against the mirror, and for a moment Dark wonders why he is so concerned – it cannot be for Krad, but why is he going through all this effort for Daisuke? The two are almost-friends, but that does not explain why Satoshi is giving up his job, his life, his everything, to come and look for a way to get Daisuke out with a thief Satoshi has sworn to track down._

"_He sounds afraid," Satoshi says, trying to keep his face emotionless, and Dark starts._

"_You don't think Krad is-" he begins, but Satoshi shakes his head._

"_This is a mirror," he says. "I think Daisuke's voice is coming out backwards." He listens for a few more seconds, and then nods. "I don't know what he's saying, but he's shouting for you, not Krad." He sounds almost bitter for a second, and then shakes his head. "I'll bring a tape recorder tomorrow. We can work out what he's saying then."_

_Dark feels relief crash into him when he realises that Satoshi seems to know what he is talking about, but there is something inside him that is more worried about the fear – for it was fear, he can tell now – that was in Daisuke's voice. He thinks they are running out of time, but he does not know what to do. He hates feeling helpless, and it is this which makes him ask his question._

"_Why are you so concerned over Daisuke?" he asks, and Satoshi's eyes widen._

"_I-" Satoshi begins to say, a faint flush coming across his cheeks. "That-" He shakes himself, and is curt when he continues again. "None of your business. I'll see you tomorrow."_

_He leaves, and Dark stares after him with dawning comprehension._

_Satoshi is in love, and Dark is afraid they will not be in time to save Daisuke.  
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End Chapter_

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(You know you want to review) Next chapter will be put up on the 10th. If I've counted right.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. Nor have I read all the manga, thus mistakes are probable. What can I say? I'm cheap.  
**Warnings: **Slash, implied sexual content, some bad language and present tense (the horror, the horror!)  
**A/N: **(Still) Dedicated to Adele. Thanks to everyone who reviewed - and especially everyone who's reviewed more than one chapter. :D. Sorry this was late, but I was drowning in homework! -flail- (Okay, and because I'm lazy. Even so.)

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Day Five?

Krad is acting strangely – more strangely than he normally does. There is a sort of half-smile constantly painted on his luminous face, giving him an eerie look; insane, uneasy, wild. His pupils are grey and his irises... Daisuke cannot really tell anymore; they are so faded, that all he knows is that they are almost-but-not-quite white. Daisuke thinks they used to be gold, like a wolf''s, but he cannot remember.

This disturbs him, sends shivers through his sleep-deprived mind (but he has been sleeping, he thinks, or has he?). _He cannot remember_. How much is he forgetting; how much is slipping away, running away into rivers of deep, dark oblivion? He thinks of Dark, and it is with a shiver that he realises that he does not- cannot-

He breathes in, slowly, then out. Dark had... hair? Dark hair, and a pale face. Wings, sometimes, when With shifted. And dark clothes, because someone liked to see him in dark clothes.

His memories are intangible, slipping from moment to moment, and Daisuke wants to scream when the image he has formed of Dark – a blank-faced man, boy, teenager? - sinks away and he is left grasping at strands of thought and hoping only that Dark would get him out of here, like he has always had done before – or so Daisuke thinks.

He huddles in on himself, and thinks his clothes are grey. They didn't use to be. He looks over to where Krad is standing, those almost-white eyes fixed on him, as Daisuke leans back against the wall, hunching his shoulders.

"What are you thinking, Daichi?" Krad asks, and Daisuke frowns – is Krad trying to use his first name?

"My name," he says, and it feels like his words are flowing out of his mouth through thick honey, slow, slow, and so hard to speak, "Is Daisuke."

Krad looks bewildered for a moment, his expression flickering, before it alters back into something that is a cross between his insane grin and a smirk, and somehow that reassures Daisuke. "Are you sure?" he asks, and Daisuke nods.

"I am Daisuke," he repeats, forming the words with certainty, "And you are Krad." There is a certain kind of reassurance in voicing these facts, reminding himself of who he is and who Krad is. Krad blinks at him, long eyelashes somehow more defined against his skin.

"I see," he says, and there is a note of mockery in his voice, a sarcastic _of course I am, why are you telling me this? _Daisuke thinks that Krad is not as confident as he seems, but he has no time to consider this further, because Krad is moving closer. Daisuke briefly remembers a psychology class – _overcoming their own weaknesses by proving themselves stronger than others_ – and then Krad is pushing him further back against the wall, head tilted down and lips curving into amusement.

"So _pretty_, Daichi," Krad murmurs, and Daisuke cannot muster up the energy to feel annoyed, can only feel Krad's breath against his lips and the waves of tiredness that are flooding his limbs; the apathy that stops him from moving. Krad scowls when Daisuke does not resist, and for a brief second, Daisuke needs to know what Krad wants; hating the contempt that crosses the face for those moments as he uses a hand to keep Daisuke pinned against the wall, pushing against his shoulder until it hurts.

"Would you let me do what I want to you, Daichi?" Krad breathes, and Daisuke blinks.

"Daisuke," he corrects, but his voice is soft and unsteady.

"Niwa," Krad says decisively, and they stare at each other. There is silence, and then Krad leans down, presses his lips against Daisuke's, and there is no warmth and no coolness (Daisuke wonders if he expects Krad to be cold like death) and only pressure. Uncertainly, he opens his mouth, wondering _is this right? _and _why do I not feel anything?_ Krad slips his tongue inside, and it is uncomfortable and choking, and he needs to _breathe_ but Krad will not move, his body firm against Daisuke's.

There is a strangled noise building in his throat, and Krad chuckles softly as it forces its way out in distress, backing off as Daisuke breathes in and out carefully. Daisuke realises that it is not out of lust that Krad acts; realises it from the satisfaction in Krad's eyes and the more confident stance he takes. Krad is _afraid_ and needs to prove his dominance, and Daisuke is weak and convenient and has always been so. Anger is building in him, and he almost glories in the feeling of what seems unadultered emotion, basks in the ability to feel, the ability that had felt like it had been slipping away from him.

He moves forward, almost stalks there, presses one hand against Krad's chest, satisfaction as he sees the other's eyes widen, He curls his hand into the white clothing, pressed against the white skin, and yanks Krad down, until their teeth click and clack against each other, their tongues are awkwardly shoving for dominance, and Daisuke's forehead is furrowed in concentration and determination, refusing to back down and lose as he has lost so many times before.

And somehow – he doesn't know how; he is seeing in blurry disjointed flashes – his trousers are pooled around his feet, and Krad's mouth is- and how he could have thought Krad hadn't been warm when they had been kissing, he doesn't know- and his hands are acting out of their own volition- skating across carved marble muscle and gripping until there are tiny pink marks that would have once been red- and somehow – _oh God._

They lie there afterwards, and Daisuke finds himself curled around Krad, Krad's hand tugging possessively in his hair, and he cannot help but think that he has lost anyway, but he is not sure that he cares. He is so tired, and the emotions he felt have already drained away, leaving him feeling an empty husk. He is so weak, he thinks, and cranes back to stare at Krad, wondering briefly what colour his own eyes are.

"Your hair is pink," Krad says mildly, pulling sharply, and Daisuke thinks the pain is dull and detached. Krad smiles slowly. "It don't think it used to be pink."

"It was red," Daisuke says carefully, after long moments of thought, thinking he should be beginning to panic. He leans back into Krad's chest instead, wondering why is he is being allowed to do this, but thankful for the contact which does not seem quite so vicious as it should. Krad's hands feel like brands on his skin, like his grip is claiming Daisuke for no other reason than he can, but it is not hurting him. It makes Daisuke feel less alone.

"Hm," Krad says at last, flicking a finger over Daisuke's cheek, before pulling away. Daisuke is left on the floor, tired and weak, and thinking.

"I'm thirsty," he says, with a note of wonder in his voice. "How long have we _been_ here?" His voice is lost, and Krad does not answer, his back turned and his posture uncaring. Daisuke's head drops, and he stares at the ground. "How long?" he whispers to himself, and stares at blue veins glowing through near invisible skin.

"_You have the tape recorder?" Dark asks, his voice uncomfortable, and Satoshi casts him a short, sharp look._

"_Of course," he says, and there is a clear implication of 'what kind of idiot do you think I am?' Dark does not answer, wary of frustrating this touchy Satoshi. He is worried however – he keeps on wondering how long Daisuke can survive without food and water; how long he can survive with Krad there. Dark well knows just how dangerous Krad is – they are one and the same, for all that they are called opposites._

_He watches as Satoshi carefully sets the recorder up, fixing delicate speakers onto the glass itself – and he wonders at the boy's expertise at this. There is a flicker of pity in him as he watches Satoshi work intently, because he prides himself on knowing Daisuke better than anyone else, and he does not think that Satoshi would ever have a chance with Daisuke. Daisuke, from what Dark has seen, is too innocent and too straight, if he is blunt, to ever like a male. Dark suspects that if he lives (he will, so it is when, not if, but he's so worried, and he doesn't want to show it) he will end up living happily ever after with one of the Harada girls; probably Riku._

_Dark doesn't think Satoshi stands a chance, and he he thinks Satoshi believes that too. _

"_There," Satoshi murmurs, flicking a switch. "It should pick up the quieter sounds that we're missing, and I can play it backwards on my computer later tonight." He raises one pale eyebrow. "I assume you'll be coming?"_

"_Yeah," Dark says, if only because it seems the only productive thing he can do. They have found almost nothing on this mirror – only that it was once considered a symbol of purity; reflected in the gleaming ivory frame, imported from who-knew-where, by the Emperor of the time._

_Satoshi looks at him, and there is a distinctly unimpressed expression on his face, as if wondering what point there is in Dark being here, and Dark bristles, even as he settles down to wait. He has more books to look through, and he should really fix up a couple of things on the security later tonight; he thinks the museum guards may be getting suspicious._

_He feels so useless._

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End Chapter_

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(You know you want to review) Next chapter will be put up on the 24th. Probably. If not, it'll be up on the 31st. Or the 1st. Whenever. -sheepish grin-


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. Nor have I read all the manga, thus mistakes are probable. What can I say? I'm cheap.  
**Warnings: **Slash, near hysterics, some bad language and present tense (the horror, the horror!)  
**A/N: **(Still) Dedicated to Adele. Thanks to everyone who reviewed - and especially everyone who's reviewed more than one chapter. :D. To all who were curious about what exactly the implied sexual activity was in the last chapter; decide yourself. I left it deliberately ambiguous for a reason (okay, for that reason and because I really can't be bothered to write a full-out sex scene. Nevertheless.) Thanks especially to AbxytOfLoki - your review made me feel particularly loved.

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Day Six

His wrists are thin and fragile; bones hollow like a bird's he thinks. Daisuke wonders if they will snap so easily, and thinks that Krad would be willing to try it out for him. He is afraid though – not that it will hurt, but that it will not, and thus will only emphasise the detachment that is sneaking over him, bit by bit. He is leaning back against a bare chest, and the muscles that are there seem_ less_ somehow,

Daisuke cannot explain it. His thoughts are a mess, and every time he catches onto a tangent, it slips away again. He wonders if this is what dying is like – if this is what the old feel like; the senility falling over them as their thoughts refuse to stay in one place and their memories flee off into the sky, dancing with the winds and the breezes.

He laughs, and the sound is almost hysterical. Krad's arm tenses, and then drapes over his shoulder in a casual possession, but that is all he does; he makes no effort to comfort Daisuke or even to speak to him. Daisuke thinks that Krad needs to be feared, needs to be worshipped and needs to be _needed_, and all he does now is feel obsolete, knowing that he will die and his other will live on without him, Daisuke finds some cruel satisfaction in the thought that Krad is probably dealing with this worse than he is, although the pale, pale angel does not think to show it.

Krad almost blends in with the walls and the floors and the white, and Daisuke snorts at the thought. Krad's hand runs over his face, poking into his eye and his cheek before finding its way to his mouth and placing a warning finger over his mouth before removing itself. The message is clear – _Be silent – _but Daisuke cares little for such a message now. He is...

A thought comes to him, striking in its clarity, and Daisuke smiles, stretching dry lips. "This place is a graveyard," he murmurs, as if he has been hit with a religious revelation. His smile widens as he continues. "It's just waiting for us to die." He pulls away from Krad and turns to stare at him full on, laughter edging in on his words. His voice turns serious then, dropping to a whisper as his smile fades. "I don't care about dying," he says. "I just don't want to forget."

Krad eyes him from underneath half-closed eyelids, and his skin is almost luminous.

"What don't you want to forget?" he asks, and it is as if he cannot speak above the whisper that Daisuke had used.

Daisuke looks at him, but does not make the mistake of believing that Krad cares. Krad cares for little, and it is just conversation amongst the doomed – _Anthem for a Doomed Youth; for those who die as cattle, _but they are not cattle, and there will be people who mourn them- who mourn him, won't there? There is Krad's other, Dake, and Ami, Emi, Amiko, his mother, and Sa-something, and if he cannot remember their names, then how will they remember him?

He bites back a choking sob, and his smile is more of a grimace as he answer the question. "Everything. Memories are me, and if I don't have them..."

"Then you are nothing," Krad finishes, and Daisuke wonders if he can see when all his eyes are is white; so white they almost glow. Krad looks up at the ceiling, his face almost beatific. "I don't want to be forgotten. I can't remember your name, but I don't want to be forgotten," he says in his whisper-voice. "We're so different, aren't we?" Krad cocks his head, and his smirk is only an echo of the vicious twist that Daisuke thinks he remembers it as being. There is insanity as he continues. "I will not become nothing. I _will_ be remembered."

Suddenly he is closer to Daisuke, and he moved so fast Daisuke thinks he did not see him. His wrist is being crushed by Krad; those fragile bones he had been staring at earlier, and like he feared, there is nothing but a dull ache. Krad does not seem to notice that his victim is not on his knees; is not screaming in pain as he closes his hand, hearing the bones splinter in Daisuke's wrist. His grin is feral and wild as he brings his face closer, a snarl in his voice. "Will you forget me, Echo-boy? That's what you are, you know. You're like a reflection of me. So, so different."

"There's another," Daisuke says uncertainly, unable to be scared by this wild-boy in front of him. "Another person is your reflection. I can't remember his name though."

Krad does not listen, continuing on with his fast, babbling speech. "Will you be my Echo? I'll be your Narcissus if you want. I'll let you put a curse on me, Echo. I'll waste away, staring at my own reflection for you, if you'll whisper my name on the winds like you did for Narcissus, Echo. As long as you'll remember me. As long as I won't fade with nothing left."

Daisuke does not think Krad can do any more damage to his wrist, and after a few moment, Krad drops it, and they both watch as Daisuke's left arm falls back to his side limply. "That won't ever fix," Krad says, his voice strangely calm, now, and there is something disturbing about it. Daisuke knows how easily it is to fall into apathy from the highs of emotion in here though, and he cannot find it in him to rage at Krad. He cannot find it in him to do anything.

"I don't think it matters now," Daisuke says, wondering if stabbing pains will come racing up his arm now. They do not, and he finds himself sickly disappointed at that.

"No," Krad whispers. "No, it doesn't, does it?"

He jerks Daisuke back into him, wraps long limbs around him, and Daisuke is cocooned in cold, alabaster skin as Krad goes to sleep, his grip unyielding. He is not bothered by this. There is nothing he can do here, and it is not that difficult to think with someone else wrapped around him; as their breath flitters across his neck, once, twice – so slowly, so shallowly, that it is almost as if he is not breathing at all.

What happens when they fade into the souls, the spirits, the spectres that float across the room, paler than they were – however long it was when they fell in here? Do they remember anything? Do they know anything? They are who he will become, before he becomes nothing, and is this nothing death or something else? He does not know, and he is not sure if he wants to know. He shivers, and his eyes flicker closed for a second, as he thinks. It is Krad that lies beside him, and he knows that that is not normal; that if they were not here he would never be close to Krad, but there is something else that is slipping from his grasp, and he does not know what it is-

"I don't know my name," he says in a horror-stricken voice, but there is no one awake to hear him.

"_Your hair is pink," the computer recites in Krad's voice. "I don't think it used to be pink."_

_Dark and Satoshi are listening to the recording of last night again; they have set another tape recorder up by the mirror, and moved away so they could listen to this in peace. Dark does not like the feeling of despair that is welling up in him at those words; he does not know why, but there is something desperately wrong in the tone Krad uses – and the way Daisuke replies, all detached and not his Daisuke. Daisuke would never speak to Krad if he had the choice, but this- it doesn't seem forced, and that unnerves Dark._

_The way they both speak; apathetic and blank. It is as if they have already given up, and Dark can find himself agreeing with them in the deepest part of his heart. He is beginning to think it is hopeless to want Daisuke back, but he cannot say that when Satoshi is feverishly replaying the tape over and over again, as if looking for some divine inspiration to hit him._

"_I think I know what the mirror does," Satoshi says, and Dark thinks he is trying not to stiffen as Krad addresses Daisuke in a purring tone of voice – 'Will you let me do what I want to you, Daichi?'_

_Dark knows Daisuke would never allow Krad to touch him, and that is the only thing that comforts him as the tcomputer falls silent for a few moments as Satoshi fast forwards it._

"_What does it do?" Dark asks, and he thinks that no one can blame him if his voice sounds hopeless._

_Satoshi sends him a dark, sharp look from underneath his glasses, and Dark finds himself wilting slightly. Why is he so ready to give up on Daisuke, when Satoshi tries again and again; when Satoshi is so desperate to help the boy he loves – the boy he would never have a chance with? _

"_I think," Satoshi says, and there is a strong emphasis on the word 'think', "That the mirror is some form of purification ritual, hence the name 'Candidus' – white, or pure."_

"_Why is Daisuke still trapped there?" Dark asked, a surge of hope rising in him. Surely Daisuke was one of the purest individuals around..._

"_Because he's human, and no human can ever be pure," Satoshi replies flatly, adjusting his glasses. "But maybe if we overloaded the mirror with impurities, it would be forced to expel those within to adjust to the influx of flaws."_

"_...What?" Dark asks, feeling particularly stupid. "How would we do that?"_

"_That's just it," Satoshi says, looking surprisingly young as he shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. "I don't know how to do any of this."_

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End Chapter_

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(You know you want to review) Next chapter will be put up sometime within the next two weeks-ish. Because I'm just so reliable like that. -sheepish-


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. Nor have I read all the manga, thus mistakes are probable. What can I say? I'm cheap.  
**Warnings: **Slash, near hysterics, some bad language and present tense (the horror, the horror!)  
**A/N: **Now dedicated to me. Sorry Adele. (And sorry it took so long to post. I have no excuse, save laziness. Which is an excuse, but a particularly lame one.)

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Day Seven

If Krad's face ever had features, Daisuke cannot remember them. Now it is ivory, but uncarved, waiting to be sculpted, he thinks – he can see a faint gap where the mouth would be, twitching ever so slightly as it breaths in and out. The hands that clamp onto his shoulder are insubstantial, and sometimes he thinks he can feel them slipping in- through him, like the oily slick of the imprint that he remembers with faint blurriness.

"Why aren't I dead?" he asks, and Krad does not respond. Daisuke swallows slowly, unable to feel the fear that he wants to. Is he alone here now? He doesn't want to be alone. This place will drive him mental.

Is he already crazy? He doesn't think he would know if he was or not. He is not sure he wants to know, and his body shakes slightly, trembles in a non-existent wind (oh god, what would he not give for the weather that he can not remember, just to feel rain and wind and sun and everything else. He would sell his soul to the devil – but has he not already done that with Krad?)

He cannot move his left hand, and he wonders briefly if he should be worried about this. He looks down and blinks his eyelids slowly. It is hard to distinguish his arm from the floor. It is like he is camouflaged – camouflaged in a way that would make any... any thief – are they thieves, why can he not remember anything, what is going on? - in a way that would make any thief envious. It makes him feel sick.

He looks at Krad through half-lidded eyes, studies him slowly. Is his only companion – his- he does not know what Krad is to him – gone? He moves closer, leans over the stone-like complexion, briefly wondering at the fact that his breath does not steam on the surface. Maybe he is not warm enough.

"Are you now Aglauros, to be transformed for your jealousy?" he whispers, tracing over the blank skin with his right hand. It is not cold under his hand, but not warm either. He thinks the feeling is going in his finger tips.

"No," a voice breathes out, and Daisuke almost thinks he has imagined it – the mouth does not move, but the word hangs out, eerily whipping, as if it were being stolen away from the non-existent winds. "I have no sister, nor am I female. I am not Aglauros."

"No," Daisuke murmurs, then frowns. "How do I remember these myths, when I can hardly remember who I am? They aren't even _Japanese_ myths."

There is silence from Krad, and Daisuke believes the edge of his body is blurring into the air until it is hard to tell which is which. Finally, he speaks, as if every word is an effort. "Candidus is not Japanese either. The memories of those who have gone before us..."

He trails off, and Daisuke does not bother to follow the train of thought. It does not matter, and the thrum of apathy in his veins lets his attention drift away. What does colour look like? he wonders. What is red, what is green, what is blue?

How could he have forgotten everything, when pointless myths stick in his head like burrs that refuse to leave? What is their _use_? He hates this, hate this, _hates it_, and he shouts that out loud, rejoicing in the _feeling_ that is rushing through him suddenly, as if it were a dam that had suddenly burst.

"I hate it, I _fucking hate it_," he shouts, and hears Krad breathe next to him. He does not normally swear – at least, he does not think he does, anyway. This is different though. He has a point to make to anyone out there; if there is anyone out there. If he did not just imagine everything outside of the mirror. Perhaps this is reality – but no, thinking like that will not let him accomplish what he wants, and what he wants is to _die_.

"Why won't you break the mirror?" he shouts hoarsely at what he thinks is the ceiling, but could be the floor, but he doesn't know and _god_, he's batshit _insane_. "Just break the mirror! Please! Can you hear me? _Just break it_!"

"That will kill us," Krad whispers, and it's strange to hear the half-echoes of his words that Daisuke would almost swear aren't being said; are just figments of his imaginations. Is Krad just his dreams? Is this entire thing his dreams? Did the world ever exist?

"Better dead," Daisuke whispers, a hint of insanity in his voice. "Better dead than whatever this is doing to us."

Krad makes no noise, and Daisuke does not think he is breathing.

_Darks walks in to the room, his shoulders slumped, to see Satoshi pressing himself against the mirror as trying to force his way in helplessly. "What are you doing?" he says, too astonished to be angry at this reckless act; to astonished to feel ashamed at the fact that he hadn't even considered trying what Satoshi is doing._

"_What does it look like, thief?" Satoshi snarls, and Dark is taken aback at the pure venom in the boy's voice. "I'm trying to enter the mirror. If I can get in, we can get others in – criminals, people who deserve to be in there." His voice is hurried, and his face flushed as he continues. "We can overload the mirror with too many people. So what if some of them die? It'll be worth it. I'll die for Daisuke if I have to."_

_Dark's face is pale as Satoshi explains, mind moving at speed as he tried to comprehend everything. "But you can't get in, can you?" he says slowly, and Satoshi's face twists into one of upset fury._

"_Shut up!" he shouts. "You don't know anything, you don't even care that Daisuke is dying in there. You'd help me if you cared."_

"_I'm not-" Dark begins, and then sighs. "Satoshi, that idea is clearly not going to work-"_

"_Just shut your mouth, thief!" Satoshi says. "You're useless. Go... listen to yesterday's tape or something."_

"_Satoshi..." Dark says._

"_No," Satoshi growls back. "No, don't say it. Just know that if... if Daisuke does not get out, you will pay for it. You should have been running the theft, it should be you in there."_

_Dark tries not to show the hurt he feels at that, unsure just why Satoshi is acting so out of character – near tears, hysterical in his grief and more useless than Dark is as he pushes against the glass again and again._

"_This place is a graveyard," Daisuke's voice says in his ear as he puts a pair of earphones in. "It's just waiting for us to die."_

_It's like a hospital here, Dark wants to tell Daisuke. We're just waiting for _you _to die._

_I think it will kill Satoshi as well._

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End Chapter_

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(You know you want to review) Next chapter will be put up next week definitely. Unless I die. In which case it won't.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'em. Nor have I read all the manga, thus mistakes are probable. What can I say? I'm cheap.  
**Warnings: **Mm, read and find out.  
**A/N: **Last full chapter! I'll try to reply to all reviews when I have the epilogue up; if I answer the same review twice, sorry, blame the lack of memory. :D

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Day Eight

He cannot remember his name. He can barely see his hand against the white walls. He wants to die.

At least then he would not be going through this.

Krad is gone, blank, white, imprint that he cannot recognise. He woke up, whatever day this may be, to find that he was leaning against a wall and that Krad was not there, and there was a feel of oil slicked all through him, as if he had slid through Krad in the night. That is a thought he does not particularly want to hover on.

"Break the mirror," he whispers, and cannot find it in him to be horrified when his voice is the same echo-ey whisper that Krad had used before he had gone. "I don't want to fade. Just... give mercy."

There is no one to respond, and he leans his head back against a wall to wait.

'_For tomorrow you will die'_ winds its way round his head, to be met by an almost-bitter, '_I wish.'_

_Satoshi is pressing against the glass again today, and Dark stops by the tape recorder without being directed to, unsure of what the twisting in his stomach is. He hooks up with practised moments, and tries to ignore Satoshi as he cuts his arm and drips blood on the surface of the mirror, to no avail._

_He listens to Daisuke's voice, and thinks that it is not Daisuke. It is too neutral, too faded, too defeated. It is easier to detach Daisuke from the boy in the mirror, the boy who whispers of death and speaks of myths with a voice Dark cannot hear._

"_Why won't you break the mirror?" the boy shouts to him. "Just break the mirror! Please! Can you hear me? Just break it!"_

_His fists clench at the next statement as the boy whispers to him, sounding defeated. "Better dead," he whispers. "Better dead than whatever this is doing to us."_

_Can he allow this boy – Daisuke, Daisuke, who is closer than a brother to him, Daisuke who draws and laughs and loves hopelessly – can he allow him to suffer? Maybe breaking the mirror will release them, and even if it won't, it will relieve the... the suffering. It is not murder, it is mercy. His nails dig little crescents in his hands, before he forcibly unclenches his fists._

_He presses the rewind button; plays the tape again. Satoshi incants in Latin in the background, and Dark thinks this is an indication of how hopeless it is – Satoshi does not even believe in witchcraft, but he is trying to use it to free Daisuke. It will not work, nothing will work._

"_Better dead," the voice says. _Better dead, better dead. _Honour your comrades, aid those who fought beside you; words of truth and strength and honour. Give him mercy._

_He knows people who would kill themselves while under torture – that is mercy. To kill a fatally injured comrade on the field is giving mercy. Euthanasia is mercy killing. It is not murder; Daisuke, the boy, wants it. He'd do it for any in desperate need, wouldn't he? Would he leave anyone to suffer? And if he wouldn't leave others to pain, why would he leave his closest friend to that same pain, that same insanity?_

"_I need to find more books," Satoshi says abruptly, fatigue clear in his voice. He has the light of zeal in his face though, lighting it up unattractively and stopping sleep from ever claiming him. "There will be something. I will get Daisuke out of there."_

_As he leaves, Dark watches him; watches the light hair gradually blending in with the shadows. It would be more than just mercy for Daisuke, he realises – it would force Satoshi away, into something else, away from the hopeless venture he currently kills himself on._

_So. He will do this then. His feet move without him thinking, over to a fire exit. 'Break glass in emergency,' read the words over an encased axe, and Dark finds himself doing this. He inserts his hand and pulls out the axe, weighing it up in one hand. Satoshi is far enough away that he will not have heard that._

_He returns to the mirror and looks at it for a long moment. If he presses his ear against it, he can hear murmurs of 'reream eth kayrb' and his mind translates it with odd ease – break the mirror. "Daisuke," he whispers lowly, and then, "I'm sorry," and he is, although he suspects he should not be._

_He brings the blunt end of the axe crashing down on the mirror, and it explodes in a rush of white. Dark staggers back at the blast, closing his eyes automatically, dropping the axe to raise one arm in front of his face as glass shards slice into him._

_Seconds pass with agonising slowness, until Dark finally feels confident enough to lower his arm, not entirely sure what he expects to see. Glass lies on the floor, the gilt on the frame tarnished and twisted out of shape. Dark's eyes travel over the frame itself, then down onto the floor, half-expecting to see Daisuke lying there, still breathing, just ready to roll over and smile with the knowledge and reassurance that everything was _okay_, it was all _over.

_Instead he sees blood that is not his own drowning the shards, and hears a horrified choking sound coming from the doorway. He turns to see Satoshi standing there, eyes wide and pained, staring at the sight as if trying to deny it, trying to deny the reality of it._

"_You..." Satoshi murmurs, clearly in shock. "You _killed _Daisuke."_

_Dark finds he cannot say anything in reply to that._

_'It was mercy,' repeats itself in his thoughts._

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End Chapter_

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(You know you want to review) Epilogue will be going up in a couple of hours. :)


	9. Epilogue

**Day Nine**

_'The infamous thief, known only as 'Dark', was handed into the police by Hiwatari Satoshi today. He will be put on trial for over one hundred and thirty crimes, and police are confident that the verdict will gain him a life sentence...'_

**Day Eleven**

_'Well-respected prodigy Hiwatari Satoshi was found shot dead in his own room. Police believe that this is a suicide case, but there has been no motive yet discovered...'_

**Day Twelve**

_'...prompting an inquest into the disappearance of one Niwa Daisuke. The parents of the boy (15 years old) have been taken into custody, but there has been no comment on the possibility of a charge being laid against them. If anyone has any information regarding the case, they are urged to step forward...'_

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Purity is everything


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